Dance With Me
by angel-death-dealer
Summary: There was another couple on the dance floor with Rigsby and Van Pelt, one that wasn't quite so expected, but one that had inspired a number of wagers, which Cho was taking care of at the edge of the dance floor. Jisbon/Rigspelt


**Dance With Me**

The guests were beginning to leave now, saying their goodbyes in exhausted, yet delighted, groups before disappearing off to their homes. It had been a long day, one filled with excitement for everyone attending. This, after all , was a wedding that many people had been waiting for, and as for the CBI team...well, it wasn't every day that two of your team mates got married. Despite all the trouble they had gone through to get to this point – choosing invitations that were classy, but not tacky, and non-exorbitantly priced, but not cheap, and the additional details of making sure that the guests would be attending, not to mention the tiny detail about how they would continue with their professional life – the couple only had eyes for each other. Grated, it was their wedding day, but they were more preoccupied with one another than they were with their family and friends. Occasionally they would have to stop their dancing for a moment, while they said their goodbyes – most of the departing guests approached the couple on the dance floor, particularly the younger guests who had been demanding their sleepy last minute cuddles before they left – yet as soon as these were over, the couple were back in each others arms. Eventually, they were so absorbed in one another that it had fallen to the bride and groom's parents to see the guests off.

But there was another couple on the dance floor with them, one that wasn't quite so expected, but one that had inspired a number of wagers, which Cho was taking care of at the edge of the dance floor.

Patrick Jane and Teresa Lisbon...dancing...together. A concept that many people never believed that they'd actually get to see, figuring that they would both argue and end up avoiding each other all night, or that Lisbon would have broken his wrist before the music even started. However, there they were, twirling around, and considering that Lisbon prided herself on being immune to his charms, they were standing very close to one another. Of course, none of them knew that they had danced together before, the gentle sounds of More Than Words providing their previous spin on the dance floor.

"You know," Jane told her, "you really are quite the dancer."

He gave her a fancy spin to show off somewhat. Unlike Grace and Wayne, who were still dancing in a world of their own, Jane was finding it hard to just sway to the music and do the cliché mushy slow dance stuff. He knew they had done this last time, but he'd sensed from her that halfway through the song she was itching for something more than the ever so gentle turning in circles – but he could also tell that she was actually enjoying the movement in his arms.

"So are you," she said politely.

"Dance lessons?" he guessed.

"My mom insisted on them," she confirmed. "I was her only daughter with three other boys in the house...she wanted me as girly as possible."

Jane nodded softly, the movement lost in their dance. She was actually opening up to him? Perhaps it was the wedding. All women were different at weddings. "Like them?" he asked casually.

"Hated them," she said, with an addition of bitterness to the first word.

"It shows," he teased her. "You're very tense in your posture."

"Shut up," she muttered. "What's your excuse?"

He smiled at her, looking very pleased with himself as per usual. "If you're going to charm the womenfolk, you have to know how to twirl them," he said, as if he were reciting from some well-known document.

"That was your game then?" she asked him. "Charming the womenfolk."

He shrugged. "It was a talent of mine, I must admit."

"What made you think you were any good?" she asked him.

"The fact that you insist you're not interested in me romantically, yet you still acted as my date for Grace and Wayne's wedding."

She gaped at him. "I did not act your date!" she insisted.

"You didn't bring a date, though," he pointed out. "You were more than happy to walk up the aisle next to me, dance with me, stand at my side and greet the guests..."

"Because I am the maid of honour, and you are the best man," she reminded him. "We're supposed to do that."

"Yet I haven't heard you complain about any of those duties once," he stated. "Besides, no one said you had to dance with me, I'm pretty sure it's not a rule. You wouldn't have had to if you bought a date. You could have bought anyone," he spun her around again, before pulling her rather tight against him. "Perhaps there are some feelings in there somewhere."

"I have plenty of feelings," she stated innocently.

"For me?" he tempted.

"Other than irritation?" she checked.

"Obviously," he nodded. "Those aren't really the feelings we're talking about. We're talking about romantic feelings, like the ones you have for me."

She shook her head, looking over his shoulder at the newlywed couple so that she didn't have to look directly at him. "Get over yourself, Jane."

"That's a 'yes', then," he decided smugly.

Lisbon gave him a warning look, her eyes flashing. "I didn't say that," she protested.

"You didn't say 'no', either," he told her.

She groaned, but regrettably not in the way that he wanted her to. This was out of frustration – towards him. He was used to it, but didn't really want the unpleasant sound tainting their friends wedding day. "You are so full of yourself," she complained.

"It's called confidence," he boasted, puffing his chest out slightly. All this served to do, though, was bring them closer together. "You should have some, too."

"I have confidence," she argued.

"Perhaps in yourself, but not in others," he predicted.

"What makes you think that?" she asked, not wanting to fall for his psychic crap, or observation skills, or whatever they were calling them this week, but also curious as to what he was leading on to.

"The way you're always hesitant, expecting people to let you down. Men, in particular."

"I'm-" she went to deny it, too quickly for his liking which is why he cut her off.

"That's why you never let yourself get close to people," he continued.

She shook her head. "Don't act like you know me, Jane," she said a little sadly.

In return to her look, he gave her another smug smile. "That's the beauty of it, Lisbon, I don't have to act."

"Look-" she started again, but he cut her off once again.

"You should give some people a chance," he suggested.

"You?" she asked, understanding what his line of thought was and sneering at it, although she couldn't help but wonder why he was talking to her like this.

"I'm not saying that," he told her. "I'm just saying that not everyone is going to hurt you, and it won't do you any good to live your whole life thinking that it's going to happen that way," he shrugged, looking down into her eyes, which weren't wandering the room anymore but were instead trained on him. "That being said, if you were thinking of giving me a chance, I wouldn't hurt you," he told her softly.

She stared at him for a moment, and he noticed the smirk playing on the corner of her lips. "Is this you asking for a chance?"

He looked up briefly, opening his mouth to speak before closing it again. "I, uh..."

"Patrick Jane, you want to date me," she realised.

"Lisbon-"

But he didn't get to finish his sentence, because the warm sensation of lips over his own distracted him, and he was powerless to push them away.

END


End file.
